Moloch: Monsters
by mamfa
Summary: Fifth in the Moloch Series, following 'Echoes.' Harmless hallowe'en fun becomes something more when a monster of a different calibre haunts the festivities, raising questions better left unanswered.


Yes, I'm back, with another angst-filled adventure of the hapless, heroic, and terminally pissed off Toby. By the   
way, Toby's mine. Use him without permission, I eat all your dots and turn your camels blue. And then I'll throw up,   
exorcist-style, green goop all over your work in question. Hah!  
Ahem.  
The rest are mainly Marvel's. Yes, mainly. I abducted the others.  
This is the fourth installment in the 'Moloch' series. The title 'Moloch,' comes from early Israelite canon, as you   
well know if you've read the first three.. Moloch was a brass god with a belly of fire, in which young children were   
sacrificed by their willing parents. Yes, more pertinent and thought-provoking stuff, folks. Narf! Zort!  
Reading music suggestions: KoRn "Hey Daddy." Perhaps not so pertinent. But Narf! Zort! anyway.  
And it's not a Gary Stu – or a Mary Sue. Narf, etc.  
Feedback, please! Archive – wiv permission. Flames are used to toast s'mores. Narf etc, etc, etc. Jeesh.   
  
Moloch: Monsters  
By Mamfa  
  
Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom   
I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch   
who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy!   
Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch!   
Light streaming out of the sky!   
  
  
Toby rolled over to answer his ringing phone. "Hello?"  
"Toby?" It was Gabby, his girlfriend. "It's me."  
"Hey, Gabs. What's up?"  
"Well, it's Halloween tommorrow, and the boys and Susie want to go trick-or-treating, and then, ah, see a movie.   
Wanna come?"  
"Sure, if nothing's up." Toby had become a part-active member of the X-Men last year on his sixteenth birthday. It   
was grueling work, but exceedingly satisfying. However, it made school damn hard to keep up with, especially two   
months ago when he'd been captured by remnants of the FOH.   
Gabby understood. "Awesome! Okay, I'll let them know. They're acting like kids, getting costumes and stuff   
together."  
Toby laughed. "We are a bit old for Halloween, true. But who cares? I've never been trick-or-treating before."  
"Really? Oh, I keep forgetting," Gabby sounded abashed. Toby had been an orphan most of his life, and despite his   
most unusual heritage and side-occupation, he behaved so normally that most wouldn't tell. That is, of course, if they   
could ignore the fact that he was six feet eleven inches tall at sixteen, with two-inch long claws, fangs, pointed ears, a   
choral voice and a shaggy blond mane. "Well, you won't have to look far for a costume!"  
"Have you any idea how mad they'd be?" he asked incredulously.  
"But I'd look so good in Psylocke's uniform," she said slyly, and he swallowed, imagining it. Uniform is being   
generous…   
"I'm not nicking the X-Men's uniforms, Gabs!" he said sternly, but she could tell he was grinning. "Not even for   
you. Betts would kick my ass, and Logan would tear strips out of my hide if I nicked his yellow and blue thing!"  
"It'll grow back, remember?" she wheedled.  
"No! No way! Have you any idea how much that itches?" he asked in mock outrage.  
"How about Mister Remy's then?" she said naughtily, her tone growing artful, and he growled playfully. Gabby had   
willingly joined Suz in being the latest two females to swoon over Gambit, but Toby had the feeling that it was only   
to irritate him. Gabby was far too devious sometimes.  
"Tease. Okay, what time are we talking here?"  
"We'll meet up at eight at the mall outside the take-away. I want something to drink, too, and you never get carded.   
So bring some money!"  
"Sure. I'll see you at school tommorrow, then!" Toby made the appropriate affectionate remarks before setting the   
phone down again. Good grief. Trick or treating. He wagered that that would be Tom's idea, a red-headed, gangly   
lad who was at the stage of growing where he seemed all elbows, knees and Adam's apple. Toby was obscurely   
thankful for the fact that his particular mutation had allowed him to pass through that period of puberty relatively   
painlessly. But then, considering the amount he ate, it wasn't that surprising.   
Speaking of food…  
He rolled off his bed and stretched with catlike grace. The amount of training he did kept him in incredible shape,   
though nowhere near the physical standard of most X-Men, who ran towards bulky muscles. Toby, despite being   
inordinately tall and broad-shouldered for his age, had lean, flat lines, which harbored whip-like cords of muscle. His   
thick blond hair was tied at the nape of his neck, seeing as a haircut was a relatively useless procedure. It tended to   
distress the hairstylist by growing back as it was cut.  
He padded barefoot towards the massive mansion kitchen. Hank was sitting there, munching on some sugary thing or   
another as he perused the theory of some profound new medical breakthrough. Toby nodded to him before opening   
the fridge. "Hey, Hank."  
"Ah, Toberoonie," said Hank expansively, scratching at his blue fur across his barrel-like torso. "And what keeps   
you awake at this unholy hour?"  
"What else? I'm starved. Plus, Gabby just rang." Toby contrived a face. "And I was almost asleep too."  
Hank shook his head gravely, though there was a twinkle in his bright blue eyes. "Hmm. The things we must   
sacrifice for love – dignity, masculinity, slumber…"  
"Yeah, yeah," said Toby as he sat down at the kitchen table with a cold quarter chicken on a plate and a cup of   
coffee. "I don't see you complaining about Ms. Tilby though."  
"Well, that's another matter entirely," sniffed Hank.  
"Sure."  
"You know, you were much politer as a boy," said Hank mock-despairingly.   
"That was because I was terrified of either getting my ass kicked out, or being beaten to death," said Toby   
impudently. "Now I know I'm not going to get kicked out, and I deal out the beatings as a sideline."  
"That reminds me… have you chosen a code-name?"  
Toby sipped his coffee, rolling his eyes. "No. My friends have given me half a dozen names, but I can't decide. I   
think they're stupid, and all the good ones are taken."  
Beast's eyes twinkled. "I know. That's why I hung onto mine before anyone else appropriated it. What was Miss   
Marshall ringing you about, her regard for you aside?"  
"Wants me to go trick-or-treating with the others tommorrow night," said Toby, his mouth full of chicken. "She   
dared me to nick some costumes from here."  
Hank burst out laughing. "That could get you in some serious trouble, Toby."  
"That's what I said. If she wants to wear what Betsy does, or doesn't, she can nick it herself. I'm not going up   
against a telekinetic ninja."  
"Wise decision."  
"I thought so myself. What are you reading?" Toby knew Hank's passion for all things scientific – it ranged from   
physics to alien technology to medicine to advanced nuclear chemistry. The blue furry man soaked up knowledge   
like a sponge.   
"A treatise on a suspected cure for AIDS," said Hank, holding it up. "I'm amazed they've progressed this far, when   
you consider the lack of government funding."  
"Yeah," said Toby sadly. "Have you found anything off-planet?"  
Hank sighed and shook his head. "Some Shi'ar scientists I am acquainted with cannot even fathom a cure, and   
despite my efforts with them and the inestimable Reed Richards, we can decipher nothing as yet. Just a few   
frustrating leads and clues which bring us nowhere. I wish Moira was here." His face settled into lines of profound   
sorrow.  
Toby wordlessly patted his broad blue back, remembering how many times as a boy he had ridden those shoulders to   
cheer him up. Hank was the soul of optimism, and to see him like this was painful to the young man. Hank smiled   
sadly, nodding.  
"Ah, but wishing is no good to us, and time marches ever on. Have you decided on a Halloween costume?"  
Toby spread his clawed hands. "What else? I'm going as a werewolf."  
Hank chuckled. "I will concede, that decision is rather made for you." He raised an eyebrow. "Will you…?"  
"I'll take my communicator," said Toby as he tore at his chicken with practiced economy. "You'll be able to reach   
me if something happens."  
Hank looked satisfied. "And will you be training in the morning? I believe I am on monitor duty, so I will not be   
your sparring partner this time."  
"Ah, damn." Toby looked reflective for a pause. "Yes, I have time to train in the morning before I see Mr Wallace.   
I'll ask Logan or Storm. They're always awake then."  
"True. I always had to wait till ten to train at your age," mused Hank.  
"Why's that?"  
"Bobby."  
"Oh yeah." Bobby's sleeping in was notorious. "And I'll bet you had to drag him out of bed too. He's not a morning   
person."  
"Neither is Logan, if you think about it," Hank scratched at his chin. "Just the habit of ages, I suspect."  
"Ages is right. And Logan's grumpy all the time, not just the mornings," said Toby flippantly, pushing his plate   
back. "Oh well. I suppose I'd better brave the terrifying jumping sheep again."  
"Try counting lemmings. It's funnier," advised Hank, and they laughed before going their separate ways.  
  
  
The morning was bright and cold, and a fog hung over the wet green landscape. Toby rose at dawn as usual, before   
making his way down to the danger room. No-one was about, so he loaded up a light sparring program, easy enough   
to start with and strenuous enough to raise a slight sweat. The holograms shimmered and solidified before him as he   
crouched in readiness. They were Hand assassins, skilled in ninja tactics, but with no particular powers to speak of.   
Sword whirling, the first immediately attempted a frontal attack while the other swung around to the side. Keeping a   
grim hold on his emotions, Toby span and hamstrung his creeping opponent with a roundabout swipe, then scythed   
his leg under the crumpled figure. It collapsed in a heap, but retained a grip on its sword. Toby ducked just in time as   
the other, sword still spinning furiously, leapt with a blow that would have dashed in his skull. He rolled and darted   
in, gambling that his height gave him the reach over the other man. He winced as the ephemeral sword ran over his   
chest, a psycho-somatic pain, and ran his fingers down the hologram's forearms. His opponent stiffened in agony,   
then somersaulted backwards, before attempting a little-known kick. But Toby had been taught by Wolverine, and   
effectively blocked the attack, the blows raining fast and furious as they sparred, drawing from jujitsu, kung fu,   
karate and other, more brutal styles. Finally, Toby gave his adversary a violent headbutt, which would definitely   
have knocked any normal man unconscious, and the Hand ninja slumped to the floor.   
Two opponents eliminated, neither killed. Not a bad start to the day, thought Toby as he strode from the Danger   
Room to the showers.   
  
  
Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies!   
gone down the American river!   
Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole   
boatload of sensitive bullshit!   
  
Mr Wallace, the unctuous, ebullient English teacher, was Toby's mentor at the school. Toby had a flair for the   
dramatic, and Mr Wallace was anything if not theatrical. He was a portly, florid man with a pointed nose and silver   
hair which he customarily tortured into a bouffant, but disintegrated during the day to become a dandelion in the   
wind. Despite his comical appearance, the Englishman was possessed of a keen wit and a piercing intelligence, as   
well as great perception.  
"Ah! Tobias," he greeted Toby effusively as usual in his office, once Toby had arrived at school. "Did you bring that   
book?"  
"Yes sir," grinned Toby, handing The Picture of Dorian Grey back to his mentor. "I liked it very much."  
"Impeccable taste, my lad," beamed Wallace, his resonant, accented baritone echoing down the hall. "I shall monitor   
your reading carefully to retain that taste, see if I don't!"  
"I believe you, sir," Toby told him, sitting down on his usual chair. "Anything untoward on this most fine morn, my   
liege?"  
Wallace's eyes twinkled. This was one of their favourite mental word games. Sometimes the sentences got so   
involved that they lost track of them. He struck up an absurd declamatory pose. "Alas! And alack, and allay, and   
noises of that nature… the sky doth grow cold and dim in mine eye, and I cannot see the sun ne'er more. Can it be   
that the heavens do cry at the plight of man?"  
"It's foggy," translated Toby with a laugh, "and it might rain."  
"Ah, but what is this? I'faith, the gods do relent, and the seers do joyously prophesize the mighty return of our   
glowing champion, who even now doth banish the cruel usurper from his realm."  
"But the weather forecasters say it will be sunny today." Toby leaned back in his chair, his grin exposing his   
overdeveloped teeth. "And how doth thy constitution bear, my lord? Art thou well?"  
"Excellent!" boomed Wallace, slapping his meaty palms together. "Now, me lad, tell me what new nugget of   
wisdom you have discovered and even now harbour greedily in your head. In the vernacular – share with the class."  
They talked schoolwork for a while, Toby at least as enthusiastic as Wallace. Shouting matches, victory dances and   
mad denunciations were not unheard of in these short but bizarre meetings. Toby very much wanted to see what   
would happen if you sat the professor, Harding, Beast and Wallace down and gave them a subject to argue over.  
"Now," Wallace gave him a diamond drill look. "Inform thy belabored tutor of thy existence. Let me live vicariously   
through your day to day trivialities."  
"Certainly," acquiesced Toby. Wallace, Harding and Toby's friends were the only ones who knew of his 'other'   
occupation in the spandex clad world of super-heroing. Wallace seemed determined to make him, if not the most   
eloquent super-hero, then at least the most enthusiastic. "All's quiet on the Western Front, though there are a few   
rumblings in the government about the mutant question."  
"What's the mutant question?"  
"Exactly. And there are some dangerous rumors going around that my dear estranged father has been seen in the near   
vicinity." Toby shrugged, not letting Wallace see how much that information hurt. "Furthermore, it has come to the   
attention of my colleague and co-wearer of brightly coloured spandex, Wolverine, that the Hellfire Club is once   
again striving for some degree of notoriety, and have re-allied themselves with the Hand. And Shinobi Shaw, more's   
the damn pity."  
"Such a multi-faceted life you must lead," said Wallace somewhat wistfully. "Toby Creed, star quarterback, budding   
thespian, talented pupil, loyal friend, ticking bomb, mutant hero. So many faces you wear, my lad."  
Toby sighed. "No. They are all the one face, I'm afraid. And now I need more than one name… who knows?"  
"Ah yes, your difficulty with a code-name." Wallace leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. "I myself tried to assuage   
that particular problem, or at least provide some semblance of a solution, but I find my own reverence for words will   
not allow me." He tilted his head, blue eyes piercing. "A code-name is more than a word, my young friend, it   
becomes a label. It defines who you are and what you can do. I cannot bring myself to label you, and in any case,   
there is no word under that strict regimen that satisfactorily describes you."  
Toby gave wry half-smile. "You know, I've noticed that myself."  
  
  
Andy Zhang and Joe Waldi met him after he left Wallace's office.   
"Hey guys," called Toby cheerfully. He was eating again, this time a ham sandwich. His other hand was jammed into   
his pocket. The wiry Asian boy, and the big, honest athletics star grinned at him as he approached.  
"You just been talking to Wally?" said Andy.  
"Yeah, and he'd have your hide if he heard you calling him Wally," said Toby, shaking his sandwich at him, whilst   
Andy made appropriate scared faces.  
"Heard you're gonna come with us tonight!" said Joe enthusiastically. "This is gonna be cool."  
"How'd you guys come up with this? I mean, aren't we a little old now to go trick-or-treating?" asked Toby, sitting   
down on the grass.  
"C'mon! You reckon we're gonna leave all the free candy to the kids?" snorted Andy.  
Joe added, "It was Tom's idea."  
"Thought so," said Toby a bit smugly. "He and Suz here yet?"  
"Nope, but Gabby went to get a drink," said Andy, peering off toward the cafeteria.  
Toby grinned. "Awesome. I'm gonna go scare her."  
"Is that what you call it?"  
"Well, it is Halloween. I thought I'd be seasonal."  
Toby crept soundlessly into the cafeteria. Gabby was third in line at the counter, her long chocolate hair alive as it   
fell in heavy tresses down her back. He smiled, studying her unknowing face. Her eyes were large and lustrous, the   
same colour as her extraordinarily long hair. Her skin was a burnished brown, smooth and unblemished, and her   
figure was not full, but had a certain willowy quality. As she moved, she exhibited the complete lack of grace which   
had first attracted him. No sitting around looking pretty for her – she didn't even attempt to be elegant, rather, she   
was completely natural, a coltish, earthy soul. She stomped through the world, and it had better damn well not get in   
her way. He wondered if she knew how gorgeous she actually was.  
Toby could move with complete silence when he wanted to, and so when he draped an arm around her, she started,   
before wrinkling her nose at him. "That's not fair," she accused.  
"I know," he grinned, kissing her.  
"Mm… I s'pose I can take a little unfairness," she murmured against him, feeling his choral baritone chuckle   
through her body.  
"Oh look, what have we here, the traitor and the animal mutie. Could you at least get a room before you commit   
treason against the human race?" said a sardonic voice. Toby winced and turned around. Gabby had to peer around   
him.  
"Luke, you know what happened the last time you tried dissing me," Toby said distantly. Gabby knew that tone - he   
was keeping a tight rein on his emotions, lest he go berserk. "I'm not fourteen any more, and you're not the   
ringleader of the Group. There's no way in hell you could beat me up after school again, and Satan will go to work in   
a snow plough before I fight you. So what is it you want?"  
Luke Lightner, formerly leader of the Group, scowled up at Toby. The stocky, dark haired young man was not quite   
foolhardy enough to pick a fight with Toby, who, despite being fairly formidable himself, was now the most   
staunchly championed student at the school. "I want you to move along so I can buy some fuckin' food," he spat.  
"Please," prompted Toby.   
Luke sullenly gritted his teeth. "Please." The word had daggers in it, but Lightner had witnessed Toby go berserk   
after ambushing him after school with his buddies, trying to beat the then short, thin, weak fourteen-year old into   
submission. If Toby had not regained control over himself, the entire Group would be dead.   
"See what you can achieve with good manners?" said Toby mildly as Gabby bought her drink and moved away.  
Luke snarled soundlessly at his departing back, a plan formulating in his mind.  
  
  
Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose   
blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers   
are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a canni-   
bal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking   
tomb!   
  
"How do I look?" asked Susie. She twirled for Toby to see. She was wrapped to the neck in white bandages, and her   
white-blond hair was hidden by a black wig cut into a bob. Her eyes were heavily made up, and she wore heavy fake   
costume jewelry of an Egyptian flavour. The thing which would really drive the boys wild, however, was the fact   
that those skin-tight bandages left nothing to the imagination.  
Toby grinned. "I reckon Tom's going to faint, and Andy an' Joe will die of jealousy."  
Susie smiled in satisfaction. "That was the idea."  
"Cruel woman," he accused. She tossed her head defiantly.  
"Yeah. And?"  
About a year ago, guys had really started taking a good look at shy little Susan Butler. Their eyes had informed them   
that in certain specialized places, Susan wasn't so little anymore. It made them look even harder. And Susie had   
found the confidence to make the most of their fleeting infatuations, whilst staying completely faithful to her   
redheaded, gangly boyfriend. It drove the more handsome boys absolutely wild, and provided her little circle of   
friends with hours of entertainment, watching them make fools of themselves while Susie deftly relieved them of   
money, dignity and confidence. It was priceless.  
Toby was dressed in a pair of old jeans, which he'd torn here and there. His feet and claws were bare. A black T-  
shirt, ripped to shreds to show his torso, and a scruffy old jacket completed it. All he'd done otherwise was to let his   
sideburns grow a little longer– it took about eight hours, and they now rivaled Logan's. It amused him to think that   
only on this night could he walk down a street without being stared at.  
In fact, Hank, Kurt and Cable could have walked down the street all together and not be looked at twice. Compared   
to some of the costumes he could see, a mere genetic mutation or TO virus was nothing out of the ordinary. Darth   
Vader and Doctor Doom walked side by side, and the irony did not miss Toby. A troll, a devil and a ghost fought   
over who would drive the car. An enormous chicken walked unperturbed past a faux Captain America, and Magneto   
had apparently relinquished rule of Genosha to hold court with a witch and a prattling bunch of pixies. All in all,   
Toby grinned, he decided he rather liked being unremarkable for a change.  
"Hey!" A shout interrupted his musings, and he turned to see Gabby, Tom and Andy walking towards him. Tom was   
dressed as a hobo – old tuxedo, battered top hat, the works. His face was even artfully smudged with dirt. Andy was   
a very impressive knight in aluminium armour, with a blue and silver surcoat and feathery blue plumes in his helmet.   
And Gabby…  
"Gabrielle Marshall!" he gasped. She was dressed all in black, with her exquisite long hair free and shimmering like   
a chocolate waterfall to her back. She wore a pair of tight black leather pants, a black leather top low across the   
bodice, a black thigh-length jacket and a pair of knee-high black heeled boots. She grinned at the effect she was   
having on him, and he noted the heavy black eye make-up, and the set of plastic fangs. "Aren't you supposed to   
disappear by daylight?" he asked, his throat dry.  
She laughed. "Apparently."  
"Then I'll have to make the most of the time we've got!" he said weakly. She pulled him close and he could smell   
the leather over the make-up and the scent she used that he liked so much.   
"If you insist," she said archly. "You look good," she added, running her hand over his bare torso.  
"Later, children," said Andy, laughing, and Toby sheepishly met eyes with Tom, who was absolutely speechless at   
what Susie was so audaciously wearing.   
"Well met, sir Knight," said Toby by way of oblique apology, slapping Andy on the back. "Where'd you get the   
costume?"  
"Costume hire shop," said Andy. He clapped down the visor and struck a heroic pose. "Well met, gentles all!"  
"Moron," snorted Tom, and Andy took up a challenging stance.   
"Aha! This foul knave is no man of gentle birth, and he doth with rude and uncouth speech besmirch mine honour!"  
"Have you been taking notes from Wallace?" said Toby good-naturedly. "By the way, where's Joe?"  
Andy stopped his gallivanting and raised the visor. "He's getting his dad to drive him here. Should be here soon."  
"Cool." Toby tightened his arms around Gabby and buried his face in her hair. The silky stuff seemed positively   
alive as it coiled about them. He sighed, for once in perfect contentment.   
"Glad someone's happy," said Andy a little acidly. They knew what was bothering him. Andy harboured a not so   
secret passion for the school's musical prodigy – a girl called Jessica Goldsmith. But she was a solitary, elusive   
thing, keeping to her piano and her friend, Caroline Cuthridge. Still, he refused every offer that came along and   
continued to pine for her.   
"Cheer up, Andy," said Tom sympathetically, and Susie wordlessly gave him a hug. Then she grimaced.  
"What?"  
"I should have remembered that you're wrapped in metal before I tried to hug you."  
That got him laughing, so that only Toby's nose noticed when Joe turned up. "What's so funny?"  
"Hey Joe. Oh, cool costume!"  
Joe was dressed as Frankenstein, even going so far as to have bolts attached to a band around his neck. "Thanks,   
man. Wow! You guys look great!"  
"Heh. I know," said Tom smugly, and Susie dug him in the ribs.  
"Smartarse."  
"Wench."  
Something occurred to Toby then. "Why have you guys taken so much trouble with your costumes?" he asked.   
"Unless you get more candy as a reward."  
Behind Andy, Tom was making frantic signals for Toby to shut up, and Gabby stepped on his bare foot with her   
heeled boot. He bit the inside of his lip to keep from yelping. Obviously, there was some sort of surprise for Andy   
here.  
"I sure hope we get more candy," said Joe with false bluster to cover Toby's blunder. "I mean, that's why I went to   
all this trouble."  
Toby inwardly groaned. Joe was unbendingly honest, and a shocking liar. He needed way more practice to ever pull   
it off. He fell back beside Susie and Gabby as they made their way from the mall, leaving Joe and Tom to talk to   
Andy. "What was that all about?"  
"We're going to a Halloween costume party after we trick-or-treat, not a movie like he thinks," whispered Gabby.   
"And Jessica will be there. I've been talking to Caroline lately, and she reckons that Jessie does like Andy, but she's   
way too shy."  
"Oh!" Toby blinked. "So we're going to surprise Andy?"  
Susie giggled. "Hell yeah!"  
"But first," said Gabby, handing him some money. "You can go get us some alcohol, dammit!"  
  
  
It was eleven fifty eight. Almost midnight on All Hallows Eve.  
Andy floated in a miserable alcoholic haze, walking dejectedly alongside Joe as they trailed behind Toby and Gabby.   
He didn't know where they were, and the bucket of candy he held seemed heavier every step he took. Silently he   
cursed Toby's healing factor that allowed him to stay sober and alert, and from there cursed the shoes he was   
wearing and even the colour of that damn sky.  
They stopped outside another house, and Andy shifted sullenly from foot to foot. Gabby took the bucket from him, a   
mysterious expression in her eyes. "You wanna do this one, Andy?"  
He silently cursed her for convincing him that this was a good idea. Beside him, Joe took a long swig at the beer   
bottle. "No."  
"I reckon you might," said Toby grinning, and Andy cursed that idiotic grin he was wearing. How dare he be so   
damn cheerful?  
"Oh, fine! If it makes you any happy…" he snapped, stomping up the steps and missing the doorbell a few times. His   
friends waited behind him. He turned. "No-one's home, I think," he said, somewhat relieved.   
"Try again," advised Joe. "Knock this time." Everyone seemed to be grinning at him, thought Andy with some   
asperity. Some friends! Laughing at his unhappiness…  
The door opened and heat and music poured out. "Hello?"  
Andy turned. "Trick or… ohmigod!"  
It was Jessica, and she was a fairy. Delicate little satin wings rose up above her head, a crown nestled in her black   
hair, and her grey-green eyes sparkled as she looked at him. "You made it!" was all she said, before hauling him   
inside, beckoning the others in.  
Andy turned to Gabby in astonishment as he looked around. Everyone was in costume, and they were dancing to   
music, drinking and laughing. "You knew?"  
"Surprise," she said, grinning.  
"Holy Hannah bent backwards over the kitchen table," Andy swore softly, watching the fairy move to the center of   
the dancing heap. "This is some surprise, Gabs." For some inexplicable reason, his irritability had entirely   
disappeared.  
"C'mon, guys, I wanna dance," said Susie suddenly, dragging Tom behind her. More than a few eyes followed her   
despairingly.  
"Oh no, if I have to dance, so do you," said Tom desperately, grabbing Gabby's arm, who in turn grabbed Toby.   
Toby winked at her before wrenching himself free, picking the immobilized Andy up bodily. "The girls went to a lot   
of trouble for this," he told the stunned young man. "Shove over! Mutant express!" he roared, generating a few   
laughs over the music, pushing through the gyrating crowd. "And seeing as you're the knight in shining armour   
tonight, you'd better make it worthwhile." He set Andy down on his feet. "Now dance and make nice, or make out,   
with the fairy princess. I've got a vampire to catch." He patted Andy's back reassuringly, before being swallowed by   
the crowd.  
Andy swallowed. "Jesus Christ gift-wrapped in a negligee…" Shaking his inertia off, he managed to make it to   
where Jessica danced with her best friend Caroline. "Excuse me, my lady," he bellowed. "May I have this dance?"  
She blushed. "Certainly, my lord," she replied with decorum, whilst Caroline winked furiously at him.  
"Oh that's just sweet," said Gabby with some fervour. "They're so cute!"  
"Look at you," Toby teased. "Gabby the matchmaker."  
"Shut up and dance with me, Toby Creed," she retorted, "or you can join Joe at the keg."  
"Nice."  
"Of course. Now get your white mutant ass over here!"  
It was twenty minutes past midnight when Andy and Jessie finally kissed, and a cheer rose up from every throat in   
the room.  
Well, almost every throat. Luke Lightner turned in drunken imbecility at the noise. "Wha…?"  
"Just a kiss, Luke," said Joe consolingly. "Nothin' to worry over."  
Luke settled back, and his face resumed its petulant, angry expression. "Jus' a kiss," he slurred. "No' leader of the   
Group any… any.. anymore, am I? No one'll kish me no more. Not since mutie-boy went ins.. inshhh… mad. Nuts.   
Yeah…"  
"That wasn't his fault, remember, Luke?" said Joe gently. He had been Luke's friend until that day. Well, not really   
friend, more like 'bodyguard'. "You goaded him into a berserker rage."  
"He's 'n aminal!" hissed Luke, a vein standing up on his forehead. "You left me for that aminal…"  
"No, Luke," said Joe patiently. He was wondering if being the 'bartender' was an overrated job. It sure sounded   
better than 'the guy who guards the keg and listens to madmen rave.'   
Luke suddenly chuckled, an evil, vindictive sound. "Got him back, though, didn't I? Poisoned him tonight. Won't   
kill 'im, but… I drunk I'm think…"  
Joe froze.  
"… Shee how well hish healing fing deals with poison, eh? Fuckin' barshtard, he is. Poishon 'im good an' sick."   
Luke chuckled again.  
"Did you say you poisoned him, Luke?" asked Joe in a deceptively mild tone.  
"…Sure hope sho, otherwise I spent that money for nuthin'." For some reason Luke found that uproariously funny.   
Joe set his jaw in anger.  
"Goodnight, Luke."  
"…eh?"  
The speeding fist put him straight to sleep.  
  
  
Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the   
loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy   
judger of men!   
  
"Toby!?"  
"Man, I thought he couldn't get drunk!"  
"He can't!"  
"Then why's he sick?"  
"Toby!" It was Joe, pushing through the crowd. "Oh, fuck! Quick, let's get him outside!"  
Gabby wrung her hands as Toby was carried with great difficulty onto the front lawn. "What's happened to him?"  
Joe was livid. "That fucking bastard Lightner poisoned him. Laced his drink, apparently."  
Tom was struck dumb, and Andy's fists balled. He was actually shaking in rage. "Where is he?"  
"I knocked him out," Joe rubbed his knuckles in satisfaction. "He's sleeping near the keg." Andy began to stalk off.   
"Hey! Where are you going?"  
"I'm going to kill that motherfucker."  
"No! Andy, just leave the sick bastard alone. Toby'll be okay in less than an hour…" Susie drew Andy aside talking   
quickly, and Jessica followed them.   
Toby groaned. "What the hell happened?" he asked weakly.   
"Luke poisoned your drink," said Gabby softly, cradling his head.   
"Oh." He tossed a bit, then feebly raised himself onto his elbows. "Can someone get me some water?"  
"Sure, man," said Joe hurriedly, almost falling over the front steps in his relief.  
"You'll be okay?" asked Gabby worriedly.  
"I feel like Juggernaut just threw me into a building, but I'll be cool," Toby replied, then winced. "Ow. I wonder   
what he used. I know this isn't arsenic, that made me throw up…"  
"Okay, please don't talk shop," said Gabby with a choked laugh. "You gonna sing?"  
"Gonna have to."  
"Are you strong enough?"  
"Will be. Thanks, Joe," he added as Joe handed him a glass of water, gulping it down quickly, then humming a short   
phrase and nodding. "Okay, here we go…"  
He closed his eyes and delved inwards, probing the edges of the power. His voices were raw and in pain, but he   
could feel his healing factor increasingly strengthening. He applied more power, and was able to sit up, before   
allowing his voices to echo inside. The echoes reverberated, cleansing and purifying, and he heard Gabby gasp as   
they escaped into her through the contact they shared. Opening his eyes, he shook his head to clear his vision.   
"Well," he said finally. "I'm glad that's over."  
"Jesus fuck, that scared me!" said Susie angrily, startling Tom beside her. Susie almost never swore, but they could   
tell she was only angry to cover her fright.   
"Did anyone else take a sip of my drink?" asked Toby, rubbing his head.   
"Don't think so," said Joe worriedly. "You were holding onto it…"  
"Good." Toby hauled himself to his feet. He was still a little nauseous and queasy, but everything seemed to be n   
working order. He winced as his stomach complained. "Aw hell…"  
"Hungry?" grinned Gabby. He nodded.  
"That too. Plus, it might be a good idea to get something in me to put a buffer against any more poison, hmm?"  
"Nice excuse."  
"I liked it. You guys want something?" Toby pulled out his wallet and checked that he still had money.  
"Yeah sure," said Andy, still a little worried. "You certain you're okay? Positive?"  
"I'll be cool in about fifteen minutes, Andy. Sorry for interrupting," he added to Jessica, who blushed again.  
"I don't think you really had much choice in the matter," she said diplomatically.  
"I'll come with you," said Gabby. "You might want someone to help carry it."  
"Nice excuse," repeated Joe teasingly.  
He shrugged. "There's a KFC down the road. It'll do. It's meat, no matter how processed."  
"Just buy a tub of chicken pieces then… here, you need cash?" asked Tom.   
"Nah, I'm set. Back in a bit," Toby put his arm around Gabby. He seemed fine, but she could feel him shaking as   
they started to walk.  
"Man, you wanna lean on me?" she asked him softly. He looked down at her and gave a small laugh.  
"I'll squish you. No, I just need to keep moving, and of course, once I've eaten I'll be fine. Healing factor can't do   
much with alcohol."  
"I still want to kill Lightner," she said petulantly, and Toby sighed.  
"Leave the poor sick fuck alone. He can't hurt me, and I won't let him hurt my friends. He's resorted to poison   
because he thinks getting rid of me will bring the Group back." He snorted. "As if there's any such thing anymore."  
"Can't I kill him a little bit?" she wheedled, and he grinned as she steered him into the all-night takeaway.  
"You can kill him by 0.1 per cent. I promise."  
He stopped abruptly, drawing himself up. A strange, half-familiar scent was reaching him… his eyes darted around   
the occupants of the takeaway quickly. A bunch of noisy young twenty-somethings, an older couple, and a large man   
wrapped in a trenchcoat were the only other customers. He narrowed his eyes. It seemed he should know that scent…  
"Toby? What's up?" Gabby tugged on the sleeve of his jacket. "Someone got bad BO?"  
He gave her a brief smile. "No… just a scent I think I know. Might have passed someone on the street."  
She gave him an exasperated look. "Well? I thought you were hungry!"  
"I am!" he protested as she hauled him towards the counter. "You try getting poisoned and see how hungry you get!"  
"I'll pass," she said dryly. "I know you could cure me, but after seeing the procedure, I think it might be nicer to sign   
off."  
"Don't say that," he growled, making half the noisy group turn to stare at him. "Ah, damn…"  
"Well, it almost lasted the whole day, didn't it?" she said wryly, perusing the menu. "Not being stared at, that is."  
"It was nice," he said ruefully. "Compared to half the costumes out there, one big el freako mutant doesn't stand a   
chance."  
She shrugged, turning to the uniformed boy at the counter. "A twenty piece family bucket, please."  
"And one for me, too," Toby added. The pimply boy looked startled, but relayed the order back to the kitchen staff,   
who began to look distressed.  
"That'll be a few minutes, sir," he warbled.   
"We'll wait. How much?"  
Gabby wandered off to find a seat, while Toby paid. She sat down and stretched her legs, wincing. These leather   
heeled boots might look cool, she thought, but they wreak havoc on your calf-muscles. Toby caught her eye, then   
nodded to the men's bathroom, before walking towards them. She nodded back, then leaned her head back against   
the booth, closing her eyes with a sigh.  
"Somethin' wrong, missy?" said a basso growl by her ear. She sat up with a startled yelp. It was the large man in the   
trenchcoat, sitting in the booth behind her.  
"Um, no mister. Just waiting for my boyfriend," she stammered. Hell, she wanted to be a politician! Why was she   
stuttering in front of this old bum?  
The man chuckled. "He ain't yer ordinary, run o' the mill human bein', eh?" he said genially. Was that a note of   
pride?  
"No, not really. How did you guess?" she asked, regaining her composure. This guy wasn't really so bad, then.  
"Got my ways, me. Plus, you two were talkin' pretty loud." She got the impression of a grin – large white teeth. The   
only other person she knew who had teeth like that…  
"You're one too," she said suddenly. He bobbed his head.  
"Can see you got your ways as well, frail. How long you known him?"  
"Since he moved to Westchester," she answered truthfully. There was no other topic she liked more than Toby, if   
only to see the looks compounded of shock, horror, pity and disbelief it awarded. It drove Toby crazy, therefore she   
talked about him at every occasion. "He lived at an orphanage before that. He got out before they killed him."  
"Hunh." That wasn't the effect she had planned.   
"Well, you should have seen him. He was the same height as me then, malnourished and covered in scars. Some   
complete bastard wrote 'die mutie' into his back," she said defensively. The man chuckled – it was oddly disturbing.  
"All right, girl, I believe yer. What's his name?"  
"Toby Creed," she replied, then wondered if she should have told him. But he seemed perfectly amiable…  
"Toby…" the man whispered, then grunted. "What's his mutant power?"  
But Gabby was on guard now. "What's yours?"  
He laughed again. "Let's just say it ain't too pretty. Now, tell me about the boy."  
"What do you want?" she asked suspiciously.  
He shrugged. "He interests me. Ain't no-one done that in a long fuckin' time, girl. Wouldn't mind a chat with him."  
"I can arrange that," she said, relaxing.   
"Probably not a good idea, but I ain't famed fer my brains," muttered her companion. "So, what can he do?"  
"He's got a healing factor, claws, enhanced senses and a psycho-somatic voice," she explained. "Man, the shit he can   
do when he sings!"  
"He any good at fightin'?"  
"Does a bear shit in the woods?"  
"Okay, point taken." The man's eyes glittered with humour under his hat. "Yer a feisty one, frail. Can see why he   
likes you."  
She grinned. "Me too. And I take full advantage of it."  
Another basso chuckle. "I'll bet."  
"Oh, he's coming back…" Gabby half-stood as Toby wandered out of the men's. He still looked a bit under the   
weather, but it was a vast improvement.  
"Don't look to hot, does he," her unnamed conversationalist noted.  
"He got poisoned half an hour ago," she said archly. "I doubt you'd look as good."  
"Don't be so sure, missy," he grinned.  
Toby collapsed in the seat next to her. "Hey. Who's this?"  
"You're looking better," she replied. "This is… hey, you know you never told me your name…"  
"Doubt I should. I ain't lookin' fer a fight tonight."  
Toby's nostrils flared. "You've already had one," he observed. Then his eyes widened. "With someone I know."  
"Very quick, boy. I see the runt's teachin' you well," came the guttural answer. "Nice frail, by the way."  
Toby quickly took a couple of deep breaths, keeping his roiling emotions under a vise-like grip. "What do you   
want?"  
"I wanted to see if what Logan said was true."  
"And what did Logan say?"  
"Ah, yer goin' to be adult about this. Good." The eyes glittered again, with something like approval. "We had a bit of   
a throw-down in a bar not far from here, nuthin' too serious. Pretty much fightin' fer old time's sake. An' he told me   
that I had a son I didn't know about, who was stickin' with the X-Men."  
Gabby's eyes widened, and she fought the urge not to scream. Sabretooth…  
"And now that you've seen that it is true?" Toby's tone was distant again, but cold, so very cold. Gabby shuddered to   
think of the control that he had to be utilizing. Toby hated his father more than anything in the world.  
"I think I'll have a talk with him. Real father-son shit." A rough-hewn, clawed hand reached up and took the wide   
brimmed hat off, and Toby got a look at his father face to face for the first time.  
Victor Creed looked much like Toby, only older, more cynical. Shaggy blond hair fell to his shoulders, and thick   
sideburns adorned his face. His nose was aquiline, like Toby's, but topped with heavy brows. And unlike Toby,   
whose eyes were bright blue, Sabretooth's eyes were a catlike yellow. Those eyes stared unblinking into Toby's, and   
the mouth widened into a feral grin. Exactly the same fangs, realized Gabby, shrinking back into her seat. "See the   
family resemblance?"  
"What was it you wanted to talk about?" asked Toby, ignoring that comment. He'd never been so close to losing it   
completely.  
Creed sniffed briefly. "Yer controlling yerself. Why?"  
"Because I'll go berserk if I don't," replied Toby, gritting his teeth. "And not even Logan can stop me when that   
happens."  
Creed snorted. "Sounds familiar, sure. What's with you living with the X-Men?"  
"They took me in, despite being your son. They trained me, fed me, became my friends and finally my family," said   
Toby, his eyes flashing. "You left me to die in that orphanage."  
"Boy, I didn't even know you existed," snapped Creed. "Who's yer mother?"  
"I don't know," hissed Toby. "I thought you would."  
Sabretooth looked confused. "How old are you?"  
"I'll be seventeen in two months."   
That surprised Creed. "Fuck! I thought you were twenty-five or somethin'."  
Toby grinned viciously, an echo of his father's. "I know. Tall for my age, aren't I?"  
"Heh, yeah. Look, kid, seventeen years ago I was probably gettin' my head re-wiped by Department H. My memory   
ain't that reliable, so I ain't ever sure o' events."  
"For a start, don't call me 'kid.' It's Toby. Could the Department have fucked around with your memories of me?"  
"Easily." Creed scowled. "This is so screwed up."  
"You're telling me? At least I've got myself under control – then we'd see screwed up." Toby scratched his head   
wryly. "I still want to kick your ass."  
"Yer welcome to try, boy."  
"I'm not as stupid as I look."  
"Didn't think you were." Creed grinned again, completely freaking Gabby out. She hadn't made a sound in the last   
few minutes. "You okay, frail?"  
She nodded violently, and Creed laughed. "Gabs," said Toby quietly, "you wanna wait here for the food? We'll go   
outside."  
She couldn't say anything, her mind filled with disbelief, fear and fury, as she watched father and son walk out of the   
door.  
  
  
Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream   
Angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in   
Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!   
  
"So."  
"So what?"  
"What is it you wanted to talk about again?"  
They were sitting on the gutter. Every muscle in Toby's body was clenched ready for action, every curse against   
Creed, every injustice rose up to clamor inside his head. But he did nothing. He couldn't.  
"Dunno. Anythin' I s'pose." Creed scratched vigorously at an armpit. "I ain't exactly the world's greatest father. I   
reckon they told you about Graydon?"  
"Yeah."  
"Fuckin' Mystique. Bitch," spat Creed viciously.  
"You're no contender for the peace prize either," Toby reminded him.   
"Fuck off."  
"I thought you wanted to talk."  
"Yeah, okay." Creed squinted up at the sky. "Tell me about… hell, I dunno. School. Tell me about school."  
That was the last thing Toby had expected to tell Victor Creed. "Oh… okay. Well, I'm good at English, theatre,   
chemistry and football. The math teacher hates me cos you killed his wife. I've got a great bunch of friends and a   
few rabid anti-mutant morons on my case. I went berserk at school once, when I was fourteen. That made 'em leave   
me alone."  
Creed was silent for a second. "You gonna go to college?"  
"Might. I'm part-time with the X-Men, so I've got that to think about. Oh yeah, 'bout seven months ago, I kicked   
Mystique's ass. And she knew who I was. That might bring you some satisfaction."  
"You scrapped with Raven and won?"  
"Yeah."  
"Fuck!"  
"Well, what do you expect when I have your instincts coupled with the training of Wolverine, Psylocke and Cable?"  
"Point. What's the frail's name?"  
"Gabrielle Marshall. And believe me, she's anything but frail."  
"How long you been with her?"  
"About two and a half years, official."  
"You love her?"  
"I think so, yes."  
"Good fer you, boy."  
"It's Toby."  
"Sorry. Toby. How'd you get called that, anyway?"  
Toby laughed. "I didn't have a name until I turned up at Xavier's. I used to think it was 'damn mutie'. A lady told   
me I looked like her Toby once, and so that's what everyone ended up calling me. Except for the people who call me   
Tobias."  
"Tobias?"  
"If you laugh, I really will carve you up."  
"I ain't laughin', see?"  
"Yes you are."  
"No, look okay, I'll shut the fuck up about the name."  
"Good."  
There was another pause.  
"Yer girl said you got poisoned tonight."  
"Yeah. Interesting experience, but I don't care to repeat it."  
"Been poisoned a few times. Sick as a dog fer a few hours."  
"Yeah, well, I've got an advantage there."  
"That's right, she said somethin' about yer voice."  
"Mm. I can increase the effectiveness of any power using it, plus create illusions and manipulate emotions."  
"Useful."  
"Yeah."  
Silence fell again.  
"Hey…"  
"Hunh?"  
"Why do you, y'know, go around doing what you do? Aren't you sick of being a villain by now?"  
Creed sighed. "At first, it was 'cos I enjoyed it. Loved it. I got off on the killing. Then it was 'cos I had a reputation   
to maintain, but it wasn't nearly so much fun. Finally, I just didn't know how to stop. Don't think I could if I tried.   
I'm a killer born, kid, an' I may be too old ter change."  
"Have you tried?"  
"…"  
"No, obviously. I heard you got taken in by the X-Men two years before I showed up. They gave you the chance."  
A guttural laugh. "I know. Don't think I didn't consider it. But I still like it too much."  
"And so that's why you almost killed Betsy, and betrayed Boomer? That's revolting."  
"Never pretended not to be. Don't try an' change me mind, boy, it ain't changin'."  
"Then why haven't you killed me yet?"  
"You think I could kill my own son?"  
"Hasn't noticeably stopped you in the past, has it?"  
"Oh. Heh, that's right, I thought Logan was my son. Little runt."  
"That little runt's cleaned your clock more than a few times."  
"Don't rub it in or nothin'."  
"Me?"  
"Smartarse."  
"You know, you didn't answer my question. Why aren't you trying to kill me?"  
"Well, why aren't you tryin' to kill me? You got more reason."  
"… Good point."  
"I tell ya why – you make me curious. I ain't never met anyone like me who I could talk to, not even Logan. Maybe   
some day I'll kill ya, but not today."  
"If that's the real reason, I'm a tabby cat."  
"Don't push it, puss. Well? Why ain't you gonna kill me? I know yer controllin' yerself."  
"I… don't know. Maybe because I wanted to know what kind of person you are."  
"Haven't they already told you, then?"  
"Oh, they told me heaps, and usually took it out on me. I've been carrying around your guilt for almost four years.   
You can have it back now."  
"Thanks awfully."  
"Well, it's your own fault. But I wanted to see if there was more to the monster they say you are."  
"And?"  
"The jury's still out."  
  
  
When Gabby emerged from the KFC holding two buckets, she didn't see the carnage she had expected to. Instead,   
she saw Toby sitting alone on the curb, his chin in his hands. His eyes were troubled, but the tension had left his   
body, and he was no longer gripping his emotions. He turned as she approached, and smiled.  
"Just for once, I'd like to be able to sneak up on you!" she said sharply, knowing she was taking out her shock and   
relief on him.  
"Sorry." He took a bucket and stood up. "Well, that was bizarre."  
"You didn't fight?" She was astounded.  
"No, surprisingly enough. We talked."  
"You… talked," she said flatly as they started down the road again. "That's it."  
"Yeah. Oh, and compared claws."  
"Men!" she said in exasperation. "I can't believe this. That was the guy you've spent four years learning how to kill,   
and you didn't?"  
"And I might not kill him next time I see him," mused Toby, tearing some chicken easily.  
"Good grief. May I ask why?"  
"If you want. I don't have an answer, though. Want some chicken?"  
  
Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the   
wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell!   
They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving!   
carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the   
street!   
  
~Fin~  
  
AN: The poem used is Allen Ginsberg's Howl. 


End file.
